Consume
by DarkWatersWithin
Summary: At the start of a fresh new competitive season Yurio finds himself the target of his angels and unwanted aggressive advances that rapidly escalate to endangering his life. Hurt Yurio! Protective Otabek, and a splash of fluff and Humor! Ship or friendship you don't need to squint to make it either.


**A/N: AT LAST! I successfully wrote a oneshot that stayed a oneshot! It's Otabek x Yurio, I wrote it as a friendship fic but you really don't even have to squint to ship it. Enjoy and review!**

The air thrummed with excitement. It was the first day of the first competition of the new season. Moscow was buzzing with energy as skaters arrived giving their first interviews, brief but sweet, then hit the ice for practice. Otabek couldn't quell his own anticipation. He had the advantage of not flying in like the other skaters. Yurio had invited him for the off season to stay with him and his grandfather to train in Moscow and he'd readily agreed. He enjoyed having a friend and especially that they were a fellow competitor. They fueled off each other's competitive nature. He doubted his training would have been so rigorous on his own and Yurio had certainly needed the support. He'd hit a growth spurt and shot up taller than Otabek and it left him awkward and clumsy. It took a lot of encouragement to get him through the phase. They practice ballet and even some yoga along with twice as much ice skating just so he could get acclimated to his new height.

"START THE BIKE! BEKA START THE BIKE DAMNIT!" The high screech startled Otabek from his reverie. Yurio was running for his life towards him with a stampede of about twenty or thirty Yuri's Angels behind him.

"Gah! I'm coming Yura!" He revved the bike and whipped it around to meet Yurio halfway. He jumped on the bike so fast he nearly tipped them over but Otabek held it steady then they were racing away.

"Just in time!" Yurio gasped. "They get crazier every year! I think one of them took a clipping of my hair!"

"Geez." Yurio was panting like he'd been chased a great distance. Neither noticed the man on the corner watching too interested as they zoomed passed. They circled the city a few times to ensure they'd lost anyone following them before returning to Yurio's home.

"Ah, just in time. I've made lunch! You boys look flustered. Did something happen?"

"A rabid mob of fangirls chased me through the streets like an animal. I don't know how I couldn't lose them! They're like bloodhounds!" Yurio whined over-dramatically. They wolfed down their lunches then Yurio glanced at the clock and went running for the shower yelling dibs. It was almost time to leave for the short program of the competition. Otabek followed upstairs sometime later, having showered before he went on his bike ride, picking up the trail of clothes Yurio left behind him and tossed them in the hamper. Otabek was just finishing the last touches of his costume when Yurio emerged from the shower. They were rushing now with little time left to prepare.

"Yurachka wait your hair!" Yurio in a hurry failed to properly towel his hair and was leaving fat drops of water everywhere, his hair a tangled mess as he pulled on his costume. Otabek threw a bath sheet across his head and toweled it roughly while Yurio shimmied into his clothes. Despite his constant squirming Otabek got it brushed with a fishbone braid down the left side then pulled together with the rest of his hair into a low ponytail.

"Let's go have you got all our things boys?" Grandpa hollared from downstairs. They preened one last time in the mirror, grabbed their bags and skates and thundered down the stairs.

"Ready!" The rink was packed with spectators. Yuri's Angels found him immediately and he was forced to stand for a dozen or so photographs though he not once posed...or smiled.

"OH Yurio Yurio I can't believe I'm actually getting to meet you!"

"Haaaah?!" Yurio backed away from the man, eyes boggling at the tiger furry costume.

"I've always loved you, the way you skate it's amazing!" Yurio yelped as the man grabbed his wrist to pull him closer and jammed a pair of tiger ears on his head.

"Let go shithead!" He snapped feeling the braid in his hair pull out of shape.

"The way you move on the ice is like a beatiful sex game. How you dominate and seduce, you're the master of every moment every arousal! C'mon, let's go somewhere quiet you and me and rut like tigers some hmmm?" He twisted Yurio's wrist so his arm was held upright and backed him up against a wall. The crowd didn't notice too busy watching the interviews.

"Let go you old bastard!" He squirmed but the man's grip was strong.

"Oh how I could make you see stripes for a week if I had just twenty minutes with you." The man was suddenly whipped around, held by a vice grip above his elbow and shoved away from Yurio, his grip slipping from surprise.

"Freak, he told you to let go. I suggest you stay very far away from Yura."

"Otabek Altin!" The man gasped shying away from the intense threatening glare the Kazhak man shot him. "Wait is he your..."

"I suggest you disappear before I get security to throw you out." The man squeaked and scurried away like a mouse. "You okay?"

"Fine. Shithead freak." He muttered rubbing his wrist. Otabek pulled the ears off him.

"We better fix that hair again. Then find somewhere quieter to warm up."

"Thanks Beka." They spent the rest of warm up undisturbed, though the man in the furry suit never left and remained hovering about thirty feet away. Otabek kept a watchful eye on him and Yura. The competition began and their attention shifted from the fans to their fellow competitors. Otabek found himself performing last while Yura was second. The extra practice they put in over the summer proved to be a good decision. The other skaters had made leaps in their skill. Everyone was sprinkling quad jumps through their programs and some were trying quad triple combos. It seemed the only time someone made a mistake was when they were experimenting with an intense new level of difficult choreography. Everyone was near flawless. Otabek gave in to the thrill, the roar of the crowd, the fierocity of the competition this year and grinned overtly. It was going to be an amazing season. He watched everyone like a hawk. Noting their strengths, their weaknesses, what new thing they were attempting and compared it to his own and Yura's. Finally it was his time to skate. He half-listened as his coach gave him a last minute lecture while he did his final stretches.

"Beka DAVAI!" He threw a thumbs up and floated to the center of the rink. Yura returned it. Inhaling the crisp air he cleared his mind of everything but his program. His mind went blank muscles moving through memory, just the sound of friction from his blade on ice and the feel of cold sharp air against his face.

"Another solid performance from Otabek Altin! Absolutely perfect! This is going to be one of the tightest score spread seen in years!" Otabek surfaced from his mental isolation collecting a couple of bear plushies and bouquets then exiting the rink feeling an intense sense of pride. In the end Yurio got gold, the Japanese Yuri got bronze and he himself got silver. There was less than three points between them. The rink turned into a beehive of fans crowding their favorites with a lightning storm of photographs. Yurio was sure he was going to go permanently blind after so many fan selfies he was forced to endure. It took over an hour for them to break away to get changed for the dinner party.

"Yurio!" The high pitched sing-song voice made the young Russians eyes pop with horror and dread. He turned just in time to see Nikiforov charging him with an undesirable hug even picking him up and spinning him in his enthusiams.

"Let go! Let go you old hag!" He flailed and sweared and Victor dropped him with a childish grin.

"Good job! As a coach I couldn't be more proud!"

"You're not my coach shithead!"

"Although I must warn you you won't beat my precious Yurichka next time! Today he was taking it easy and focusing on a flawless program rather than groundbreaking difficulty. We'll do that at the Grand Prix!" Victor continued not even hearing Yurio's protest. The blonde looked like a cat that had it's fur stroked the wrong way and was trying to put everything back into place.

"I don't care."

"Also I think you should reconsider your costume choice. It's not really suitable for someone of your height. I bet you're not used to it yet are you!"

"Shut up."

"I bet I have some costumes that would work well."

"Oh my god who is the piggy kissing! I think they're gonna do it right there by the rink!" Yurio shouted pointing behind Victor.

"What?! Where!?" Victor pirouetted almost toppling himself to catch his fiance's philandering and Yurio bolted through the door to find Otabek and Grandfather. "Wait Yurio!" Climbing into his grandfather's car he found Otabek already buckled in and sunk way low on the seat eyes closed, weary from the day. Grandfather talked mostly to himself about how proud he was of them and lightly trash talked their competitors in good humor knowing neither of them was really listening. They had about an hour and a half before they had to get to the dinner party. Yurio sighed pull his hair free of the braid then scrubbed his entire head in a frenetic violent fashion.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" He shook his head feeling free and relaxed again, his hair fluffed like a blown dry cat. Otabek peeled an eye open then boggled.

"Does your hair always insta-floof like that or do you use some product to bend it to your will?"

"Tch. Shut up Beka." Otabek smiled tiredly and pressed his head to the cold window. He hoped the dinner party didn't last too long. He was looking forward to a quiet night with a book and a hot cup of coffee.

"FOOD!" Yuri Plisetsky liked one thing about these after skate parties. Free food. If he had to be sociable against his will he felt it only right he be fed while he was at it. He looked on with drooling at the table spread of edibles. Otabek stood beside him with a similar glimmer of joy in his eye. Yurio had practically hip checked Victor and Pichit out of his way to get his plate leaving them whining in his wake. Otabek took advantage of the gap he'd made and slipped ahead of them in line.

"Mmmm, Pirozhki, stew and fresh bread and...is this takoyaki?" Their plates were half full and they'd only made it to the first table of the buffet spread so far.

"Hmmmm, takoyaki at a dinner in Moscow is suspicious." Yurio declared. They eyed it like a living amoeba and moved on to the desserts. They tried to stick together in anti-social silence, neither in the mood for interaction but Otabek's coach dragged him off and said he had to be friendly to keep good sponsers and stay popular leaving Yurio on his own. Yakov had skipped on the party. He didn't think it fair he had to attend and Yakov got to ditch further sullying his mood. Time ticked by painfully slowly and he got pulled into a few conversations but was deft at killing them off with awkward replies.

"OH hey thhhere you are! Aren't you jus' the prettiest lil' tiger skater! We din' get to finish our interluge...interlube...interlude" The man sidled uncomfortably close to Yurio in a tiger striped suit that was hideous even to Yurio. He was very clearly drunk already. Yurio shuffled away from him but he stumbled to follow.

"Go way shithead."

"Awww dun' be liketh that! A delithious kitten like you shoul' be friendly!" He leaned into Yurio both shuffling along the wall. Yurio unwilling to risk conversation with the main crowd by crossing the room and the drunk unwilling to be walked away from.

"I said go away dumbass. Whatever you want I'm not interested."

"Oh bu' you areth...I seeths in the way you shkate! Your bodyth sthpeaks, callin' me, tellingth me howth muchth your body yearnth for me to taketh it." Yurio was side stepping trying to get distance between himself and the creep. Neither noticed the conversation had drawn the attention of some nearby skaters with disapproving scowls. "And thhhen you nameth your thheme to be'th dominathion and I knew you'th rea'y..." Yurio started to jog past him seeing a small opening pushed past his discomfort enough to endure the company of other, safer, skaters. He barely took two steps when he felt a hand bury in his hair, yanking him and bending him sharply backwards, slamming him hard against the table sending several food dishes crashing to the floor. The drunk's lips crushed against his own, their teeth clanking. Yurio grunted and squirmed fruitlessly, his fingertips tingling from the loss of circulation, lungs aching for more air as he gagged on the man's saliva. He began to grind his hips against Yurio's when suddenly he yelped and was jerked backwards. Yurio slumped to the floor unprepared for his sudden freedom and Otabek was right at his side.

"Are you okay Yura?"

"Y-yeah, fine." He spat the excess saliva angrily trying not to think about it not being his own.

"It's time you left." The ferocious snarl was so unnatural it was unrecognizable coming from Victor. He stood gripping the man with a fistfull of his suit with Christophe next to him forming a wall between the drunk and Yurio.

"I'll leaveth when I wantsth too! Me'n'Pliseststhky are gonna ge' i' on'th firsth."

"You're leaving, _now._ " The harsh tone sounded just as strange coming from Christophe. Pushing and pulling they tag teamed to drag the man from the room and take him to hotel security to have him room and kept out. Yurio found himself another wall with a second plate of food and a soda. Whatever chance of him socializing properly is gone now with the last shred of his good mood. The party slowly regains momentum. A couple of people try to start up conversation with him but he rebuffs them with a blatantly ignoring them to eat or with extra salty retorts. Otabek leans on the wall with him for a while, not talking but eventually he gets dragged away again. After twenty minutes Yurio had enough.

"Forget this shit." He groused throwing his plate in the trash. He may not be able to leave for his Grandfather's yet but he saw a nearly empty reception area with comfy couches and plush chairs he could hole up in until the shindig was over. He exited the banquet hall unnoticed and started down the abandon hallway, instantly enjoying the muffled silence.

"Alasth I findth you awone..." The heavy lisped voice frayed his last raw nerve.

"Sonuva bitch you don't know when to qui..." He whipped around expecting the tiger suited drunk man but stopped short. "Oh."

"You wasth expsthpecting that sthupid drunkth weren'th you? He dbid mayth a goodth disthracthion. No oneth nothiced me." This man was drastically different from the drunk. He was bright and clear eyed. He stood a good four inches taller than Yurio at least and was equally broad shouldered with a bulky build that wasn't an ounce of fat and he was already way way too close for Yurio's comfort. There was a distinct aura of dangerous about this man. He doesn't spend time exchanging verbal blows. It doesn't seem safe enough to try.

He ducks left around the behemoth darting for the banquet hall door but the man's ready for him. The blow to his temple drops him to the floor seeing stars. He's not knocked out but he's easily stunned. The man hefts him from the floor. He's wobble-legged, head still weaving from the blow. He can't resist as his jacket is pulled off then his dress shirt forced open and yanked down to his elbows. He shivers in the cold air. The cobwebs are clearing from his head finally but it's too late. The man has him crushed against the wall. He tries to fight him but he's so much bigger and heavier, both his slender wrists are held in one of the meaty iron grip of one hand and the other is plastered across his mouth. He can't even yell for help. He can hardly breathe. He tries kicking out but he doesn't have enough room. The man is so damn close. Even if he could get a coordinated movement he coudn't hit him. The man's lips latch to his neck like an ocotpus then there's a hard cold something sliding up his skin slicing the flesh. He cries out and tries to jerk away but he's cemented in place. The sharpness retreats and then the man is sucking hard but it feels like it has a purpose, not erotic, and he's swallowing successivly. Yurio groans as his neck burns. Fear surges through him and straight to panic. He bucks and thrashes but his attacker is nearly three times the size of his slight skater's frame. He's ashamed of the tears rolling down his face but he can't fight the terror. He feels his neck slit again and whimpers. Whatever the man is doing it's not happening fast. He can hear the party in the next room still going strong and feels despair. They're so close but why isn't anyone coming? He's bombarded with a whirlwind of sensations. Pain, fear, panic, desperation, pleasure. Oh god, some twisted part of his body is enjoying the feeling of this man sucking the blood from his neck.

He felt his body grow heavy and his head get light. His vision grayed in and out and his thoughts muddled. The man noticed the change and released his wrists to wrap an arm around his lower back and pulled away from the wall pushing Yurio to bend backwards almost perfectly horizontal. He didn't have the strength to resist anymore. Every few minutes the man woud cut his neck again or drag the tip of his tongue through the thin wounds breaking up the clots so they will breed freely. He hung limp, spots floated through is blurred vision unable to resist sinking into the black.

Otabek glanced at his watch a few times. He'd remained almost long enough to make a couth exit. Like Yurio he was beyond ready to leave but he hadn't been so lucky as to sneak away during the commotion. He'd noticed the blonde Russian's absence about fifteen minutes ago and felt a kernal of jealousy. He was also a little annoyed his friend didn't help him escape too. He assumed Yurio was lounging in the peaceful silence of the empty reception area just off the hotel lobby. He grabbed another slice of pie and munched it feeling his disgruntled state ease a little. He had a weakness for desserts and it was a balm for any grievance. Loud shouts drew his attention to the main hub of the party. Most of the attendants were drunk now and a game of spin the bottle had been started. They had tried to drag him into it but he'd practically hissed at them and he was left alone. Currently a very drunk Pichit and a almost as drunk Christophe were locked in a snog that was a little more heated than necessary for the game. Thankfully, with Yuri's intervention, Victor was not drunk, though they were both dragged into the game too. More alcohol was consumed and the group only got rowdier. Altin decided this was his chance and tossing his plate made a beeline for the door.

The contrast of noise in the room and outside it was staggering. Sweet glorious relief. He set out to find Yura then they would call his grandfather for a ride and finally he could settle into a book. He barely turned the first corner and was stopped in his tracks by the sight. Yurio was bent backwards in a sharp arch nearly level with the floor, he was held by a man easily six foot and as wide and thick as a wall but it was all muscle. He had one arm laced around his lower back and the with a fistful of Yura's hair and had his head yanked back painfully. Yurio's hung bonelessly in his grasp, arms dangling lifeless, perpendicular to the floor. His eyes were closed and he was unnaturally pale with old tear streaks down his cheeks.

"Yurachka..." He didn't mean to speak. The man jerked to stare at him wide-eyed, blood dripping from his open mouth a strange ring looped over his tongue with what looked like a razor blade saudered to it. Otabek exploded with rage. "Get the hell away from him!" He charged thoughtlessly and the man threw Yurio down, bolting to the end of the hall. There he could go left for the elevator, right for the stairs down or straight into a dark office. He swerved for the stairs. Otabek acted on instinct tearing off his shoe and whipping it at the man. It wasn't so much the blow but the surprise of it that made the stranger yelp and slip rolling head over heel down the stairs. Altin stood at the top glaring down as the man staggered to his feet and stumbled away. He wanted to follow and beat the man's head in but a weak sound from the hall drew him back. _Yura._ He had to take care of Yura.

His friend was lying seemingly unconscious where he'd been dropped. Otabek sank to his knees beside him. He was clammy to the touch, the shallowness of his breathing frightening, and eyes darting beneath the lids. There was a sense of heaviness about him the way he seemed pressed to the floor, too weak to differentiate himself from the surface. There were numerous cuts all clustered over a spot on the left of his neck, dangerously close to the carotid that seeped blood heavily. Otabek darted into the bathroom taking a large stack of paper towels then pressed it to the wounds.

"Yura...Yura can you hear me? I need you to wake up Yurachka." He patted his cheek sharply. Yurio moaned, listing away from the touch but remained insensible. The paper towels were soaking through slowly. _How much does he have left?_ Otabek had never seen him so pale. It seemed impossible. He was breathing in short shuddering gasps now, a shiver taking over his frame roughly. A door slammed and the hall filled with tipsy giggles.

"Vitya wait we can't do it here." The was a high pitched yelp and more snickering.

"Help! I need help over here!"

"Wha...was that Otabek?" The sniggering stopped and Victor and Yuri appeared around the corner.

"Otabek what happened?!"

"Yurichka get him more paper towels quick!" In a flash Victor had an ambulance called then with fresh paper towels replace Otabek's hands with his own over the wound.

"I caught some bastard attacking him. He ran off though."

"Try to wake him, I've got this."

"Yura, can you hear me? I need you to wake up. Please Yura wake up." He drummed on his cheek, stroking his slick forehead trying to rouse him with stimulation. After a minute of stern begging Yurio peeled his eyes open almost like they were sticky.

"Oh he's awake! Good good!" Victor cheered squeezing his shoulder lightly.

"Maybe we should prop his legs on something. Do you think he's in shock?" Yuri suggested.

"Good idea Yurichka." Yuri scampered off to find a small table or chair.

'Yura, look at me. Can you hear me? Yura?" Otabek ignored the other two, his attention riveted on Yurio. His eyes were unfocused and lolling about the room. "Yura, look at me." Otabek turned his head lightly so he was staring him in the eye.

"B-Beka?" His voice was little more than a wisp.

"That's it, I'm here. Keep talking to me Yura. How do you feel?"

"M'tired...tired..."

"I know but I want you to stay awake Yura. What else? How do you feel?"

"C-cold...need to... nee'to'sleep." His eyes wavered and started to roll back.

"No no, Yura you don't sleep! Do not sleep!" Yuri returned with a chair and propped his legs on it. Victor peeled off his suit jacket and threw it over Yurio's chest and shoulders then reached to take Yuri's as well.

"B-Beka...don't...feel weird...wanna...sl-sleep..."

"No, you don't sleep Yura, don't you dare sleep!" Yurio only whimpered. Beka was going to be upset if he fell asleep but he was _so_ tired. He didn't know how much longer he could keep his eyes open. People began swirling around him like a cyclone of paint water. It made him dizzy. They were barking and shouting. It was too much, there were too many, he started to panic. He tried to squirm away from them as someone pressed something that hissed over his mouth and nose. There was a sharp sting in his elbow and he was moving but not by his choice. "Shhh, it's okay Yura, I'm still here. Just focus on me." His fuzzy gaze oscillated towards Beka's voice. He just had to keep looking towards his friend. That's all Beka wanted. But he was so damn _tired._ Black crept into his vision like tied washing over him, pushing him deeper beneath its dark waves. Beka was calling him again. The terrified pleading tone sounds all wrong from his friend. He wished he could make it go away. Instead his body surrendered to nothingness.

The hospital was eerie in the still silence. Otabek couldn't sit still and paced the hall. Grandfather Plisetsky watched him but didn't comment. Yuri and Victor sat quietly with him each in their own reverie. It had been over an hour now and the clocks were ticking so loudly, fraying Otabek's nerves like a cheese grater. He wanted to smash every one of them to pieces. They were laughing at him. Every click from the time hands pummeled him with judgement but not so severely as he condemned himself. Yurio had been fending off crazy fans all day. He'd known that and still he let this happen. He should have stuck by him, checked on him when he realized Yurio had left the party. Hell they should have just left the party after the lunatic in the tiger tuxedo. Instead he just stood by, sipping champaigne and eating the free food to appease the wants of others while his friend was being brutally attacked. _Why didn't you do something?_

"Family of Yuri Plisetsky!" They jumped like a stampede towards her.

"How is my grandson? Is he alright?"

"He's going to be fine. The surgery to repair the vein in his neck went without complication. We put in disolving stitches for the vein itself and a few stitches for the cuts on the surface Which he'll need to have removed in about a week."

"Oh thank god! I want to see him!"

"He should be settled in his room in about ten minutes, you can see him them. We're giving him another transfusion and will keep him overnight. If his vitals are back to a normal range he can go home tomorrow. He's going to be very groggy and weak for the next few days which is normal for his injuries and he may be a bit confused. This is all normal for this type of injury. The doctor will explain what symptoms could be a sign of complications when he's signed out."

The wait was short and unbearably long before they were allowed into the room. Yurio was incredibly pale but not like before. Some of the color had returned to his cheeks. There was thin red lines held shut with black stitches along the left side of his neck. He had a pile of blankets over him but he still shivered and his face seemed pinched with discomfort. A bruise had formed along his temple and spread into a black eye along with deep black marks along his wrists. His grandfather ran his fingers through his sweat soaked locks, pushing it away from his face. Yurio moaned and leaned into his touch and his eyes flutterd open.

"Grandpa? Beka?" He sounded so frail. He looked disoriented.

"We're here my boy. Everything is okay now."

"kay" He sighed heavily, blinking owlishly being pulled into sleep again.

"I will tell Victor and Yuri to go home. They don't really need to stay." He leaned in whispering something into Yurio's ear. Otabek blushed feeling like an intruder at a clearly intimate moment between grandfather and grandson as Yurio leaned to press his forehead to his Grandfather's cheek and nodded. Otabek spun to leave only to feel his sleeve caught.

"Stay?"

"You stay with him. I will return soon." He couldn't go against the man's demand or Yurio's plea and settled himself into a chair by the bed. The quiet was a bit heavy but not uncomfortable. Yurio slipped into sleep.

The next day they took him home around lunchtime. He was required to take a wheelchair to the car which inspired only feeble grumbling which only cemented their belief he needed it. He was half asleep leaning against Otabek's shoulder for the car ride home and then on the way to the couch as well. He complained about their fussing as Otabek piled pillows around him and tossed several blankets on top of him. He still struggled to stay warm. His grandfather clucked and promised hot stew in about half an hour that would warm him. Yura's cat took full advantage of his weakness and settled herself between his thighs with a look of entitlement and purred contentedly.

"Drink this. The doctor said it will help get your energy back." He handed the chill glass to Yurio. He grimaced at it's coldness and whined about their pestering him but a stern glare had him sipping slowly while fighting to stay awake again. Otabek settled at the foot of the couch with a book. Such miniscule resistance showed just how weary Yurio was really. They were just serving up the stew when the phone rang. Grandfather shuffled into the room with a stunned look and a big grin.

"They got him."

"What? How? When?"

"A few hours ago. They say he was using a toe ring with the sharp edge of a razor blade saudered to it and when he fell down stairs it jammed in the roof of his mouth and he got concussion. Walked himself into hospital but false name didn't fool anyone."

"One crazy gone...but what if there's more crazy as him?" Yurio muttered worriedly.

"Don't worry. I never repeat my mistakes. I'll watch your back."

"You getting mushy on me Beka?"

"Laugh it up Yura and I'll pet the cat." Yurio's eyes went wide. The cat had stretched herself out using his crotch as a pillow for her head and front paws. It was a well known fact that if she was being pet she would pur viciously and curl her toenails into whatever she laid on and she had _long_ nails. His bits would not be safe. He pouted wiggling deep within the blankets and pillows, his soup finished. As he drifted into sleep he felt his anxieties ease. Beka would keep him safe.


End file.
